


Once Upon Academy

by blue_pointer



Category: Avengers Academy (Video Game)
Genre: Concerts, First Dates, Hate to Love, M/M, Motorcycle Rides, Renaissance Faires, Sloppy Seconds, Surprise Kissing, Winter Soldier/Tony Stark - Freeform, Winteriron Holiday Exchange, winteriron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-19 06:11:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13117704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blue_pointer/pseuds/blue_pointer
Summary: On a trip to the Renaissance Faire with Jan, Tony discovers a new challenger to his title of Ultimate Coolness. Decked out in historically accurate (mostly) armor, Tony is ready to joust. But this bard is a tricky one.





	1. Kisses for Everyone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [justanotherpipedream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanotherpipedream/gifts).



“I still think you should have worn the outfit  **I** made you, Tony,” Jan complained as they stood in line to pay for their admission. 

“I am wearing it,” Tony told her. “Underneath the period armor I spent two days making. Don’t be hurt; you know mine is better.”

“You know, I love you so much, I hate you sometimes.”

“Right back at you!” But Tony made up for it a bit by paying for both of them to get in, and then drinks, and then horrible but delicious fried food, and by the time they decided to check out the on-stage entertainment Jan was full and happy and certain Tony was going to have to take his armor off some time, because it was hotter than blazes out here.

“Let’s sit down,” Tony suggested. “So that people can admire us and be insanely jealous of our killer Renaissance look.”

“Sounds like a great plan to me!” There was no show on when they sat down in front of the stage, but already people were gathering for the next. They snagged aisle seats at the back from whence passers-by might be the most jealous of their flawlessness and just relaxed for a while. The crowd in front of them built and built over the next hour. Apparently this show was big. Most of the audience seemed to be just Tony’s type: young and gullible, with of course the requisite fathers and boyfriends escorting them. He scanned the crowd, trying to see if there was a girl pretty enough to warrant his attention.

But his musings were interrupted when a tall teen stepped out on stage. The eruption from the audience was deafening. Tony couldn’t see what was so great about the guy. Sure, he had long legs and a pretty face, but that emo kid hair was so nineties, and he wasn’t even really in costume. Those jeans might be tight, but leggings they were not. And where was the codpiece? The pantaloons? If you paid the price of admission here, you should at least get a good codpiece to look at.

The top of his costume was more traditional, but he wore it like a leather jacket. Who’d let him in here like that? Everything was supposed to be medieval. Tony was going to complain to someone. He was wondering why the girls were screaming so loud, pressed against the edge of the stage, reaching for him. He was wondering--wait, where had Jan gone?

Tony spotted her in the throng at the front. Apparently she’d fallen for the boy’s siren call. Oh, it was on. Two could play at this game. Tony was just hatching a plan to fly up on stage and have a rollicking sword fight with the guy, when Mr. Heartbreak picked up his guitar and brushed his fingers across Tony’s heartstrings. From the first chord, he was a goner. Was this some kind of special super power? Should he defend against it? No, that didn’t seem possible.

The boy turned his face up to the cloudy afternoon sky, his long bangs falling back from his face as he did so. Well, he was lovely. This was terrible. Tony had been determined to hate him. Then he began to sing, and it was all over. Tony didn’t rush the stage to try to grab him the way Jan had. But he did sit in his seat, rapt, lips parted in awe, unable to do anything more than listen until the boy’s song was done. It was a morbid one: a love song written to Death itself, but his voice was so smooth, his tone so tender, Tony was in tears by the end. From the look of it, so was everyone else in the audience.

Tony hated crying. Worse than that, he hated being forced to cry, bewitched into crying. Because there was no way he was just going to be sitting here at some hokey Renaissance Faire, crying because of some two-bit hack on stage, with his ripped jeans and metal...hand? Damn. Now Tony was intrigued. He’d been so ready to go a couple of rounds with this guy, but now he had questions. So many questions.

For the second song, the teen gave up all pretense of Renaissance music and plugged his electric guitar into the amp. Tony started to hate him a little, because he was really good. His music was melancholy and more than vaguely morbid, but it was pretty, and rocked way too hard for a medieval setting. Tony felt rooted to his seat. He wanted to stride up to the stage, demand to know just who this bozo thought he was. He snatched up a program from a nearby kid who didn’t seem to care about it. Flipped to the stage attractions page and found the teen called himself the Winter’s Sorrow. God, how pretentious. Anyway, that was Tony’s job. He could have come up with a much better name if he’d been in the boy’s place.

He clutched the schedule, getting more and more angry at how good the guy was, how the girls all screamed every time he so much as looked their way, how Jan was...throwing her underwear on stage? Wow. Tony might have to pretend not to know her. Cute underwear, though.

When the Sorrow’s set was finished, Tony rushed for the back of the stage. He still didn’t know quite what he was going to say, but he was going to say something, and it was going to be something that pretentious manipulator would not soon forget. Of course, there was a throng of adoring girls back here. The ones who wanted an autograph or a date so badly, they’d missed the last song to get into position. Fortunately, Tony was able to break through the crowd fairly easily with his stylin’ period armor.

It was too long before the man of the hour finally emerged. His expression was flat; he looked dead inside. For a minute, Tony actually considered letting him go without a word. Then Jan came out the exit behind him, smiling, and took the singer’s arm.

“Janet!?” Tony felt betrayed.

“Finders keepers!” she grinned, then waved a hand at him. “Oh, Tony. You don’t really expect to get Jimmy’s attention with that silly visor down, do you?”

“Silly? I’ll have you know this part of the armor took the longest--why? Because of all the detail work I did on the visor!” She was giggling so much, it left Tony wondering if he’d just been baited.

Whatever it had been, pretty boy’s piercing blue eyes were now fixed on him. Why was Tony’s heart beating so fast? “There’s really someone in there?” He leaned forward, trying to peer through one of the slots in Tony’s visor. Which somehow made him even less determined to take it off.

“Of course, silly!” Jan swatted him playfully. “That’s my best friend Tony. The two of us came here together.”

“So it’s a guy in there?” Why did he look more interested? Could it be? “Hey, take that thing off,” Sorrow told him, reaching out to put his hands on Tony’s shoulders as if to steady him. The metal clang of his left hand against Tony’s armor was enough to make his dick jump as he scrambled to release the visor. Of course, the great Tony Stark did not fumble. He got a hold of his nerves, pulling off the helmet with a flourish.

“Well. He’s cute,” Sorrow observed, and Tony thought he might faint. Why was he being so stupid? He’d been ready to fight this guy.  

“I beg your pardon!” Tony drew himself up to his full 5’10” (in metal boots), summoning what personal outrage he had left. “I’m devastatingly handsome, thank you very much for noticing!” Jan giggled again.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Sorrow stepped up close, his metal fingers pinging against the small of Tony’s back--in the suit. The back of his suit. Oh god, what was happening? “I mean, you probably get this a lot.”

“What?” Tony was trying to pull back, but the guy was strong. Was he a villain? Was this a mission? There was something he’d needed to do, but Tony had completely lost it in the icy pools of the singer’s eyes.

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” he whispered, his voice husky, smooth--yet grainy. Like velvet sand. “If that’s okay.”

Tony found himself nodding like an idiot. Not because he really wanted to be kissed by this guy, but because his lips looked so full and soft up close like this. Tony started a little when the girls around them erupted in screams. It was irritating. He wrapped his own armor-clad arms around the other boy’s neck, jerking him closer still, so that Tony’s tongue could explore his mouth. Oh, this was good. Too good. Sorrow tasted of cardamom and cloves, and something indescribably cold and metallic, like a steampunk snowflake. When he let Tony go, he wasn’t ready, his head still spinning.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Tony.” Sorrow offered a lopsided grin to Tony’s bleary-eyed, stunned expression. “Maybe I’ll see you around.” And with that, he left. Tony wondered where Jan had got to, right up until she threw herself against him with demonic glee, grabbing Tony’s arm with both of her own.

“Oh my god! He kissed you! Isn’t that delish!?” But Tony couldn’t answer. Part of him was still following those ripped jeans, pulled tight over a muscular backside, as he watched the crowd part for the singer, like a prince--or a magician--in a fairy tale.

“I’m going to kill that guy,” he murmured, thoughtful, rubbing his lips with the tips of his fingers, like he could catch the remainder of the kiss in his hands.

“Are you talking about Shakespeare’s little death?” Jan winked. 

“What?” It took Tony far too long to get the reference. “No! You’re awful!”

“But you love me that way!” she chimed, bouncing.

“I thought--well, the way you came out, I thought maybe the two of you…”

“What?” She giggled. “I just flew backstage to tell him about my adorable best friend!” she pinched Tony’s cheek.

“You lying minx!”

“Okay, so maybe we made out a little bit first.”

Tony looked outraged. “So you gave me your sloppy seconds?”

She giggled. “Wouldn’t be the first time!”


	2. Cyborg Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony can't stop thinking about that Winter's Sorrow guy. And then he mysteriously appears on campus.

Tony sat in his Tower suite alone, admiring his new suit of armor, thoughtful. How dare that guy kiss him after he’d made out with Jan? She’d admitted later that it had been all her idea--that she’d told “Jimmy”--apparently his real name was James Barnes--his social media would blow up if he kissed another guy in public. 

Apparently it had--not that Tony had started stalking him on twitter and instagram or anything--but that didn’t make him feel any better about what had happened. Sure, he could tell his various flings--who would inevitably be jealous--that it had been just a publicity stunt, but he refused to accept it himself. They’d had a connection. Tony had felt it--no, tasted it.

Stupid boy. Just who did he think he was?

Tony spent the rest of the night researching him. Mysterious origins--well that wasn’t helpful. Or intriguing. Nope, not at all. It turned out he was a student at the Academy. That was a surprise. Tony had never seen him before. Maybe all he took were music classes, drama, that sort of thing. Or maybe he was more of a James Dean type, who skipped all of his classes to sit in the quad, smoking cigarettes all day. That wasn’t hot. Nope.

Tony fell asleep at his desk and dreamed he was Barnes’ guitar, the boy’s long-fingered hands moving expertly up and down his body, stroking him gently but insistently until the most beautiful sounds emerged. He woke up to wet shorts.

Nothing happened for a week. Jan had Barnes’ phone number, but she wouldn’t give it to Tony. She said he’d hardly texted her back anyway. Served her right. Tony tried to focus on his builds. His favorite flirts. And--oh yeah--school.

He was heading out of chemistry--his last class on Friday afternoon--when Tony spotted the motorcycle in the quad. Who had the balls to drive a bike onto campus? It wasn’t Rogers’ bike, that was for sure.

Then he saw him: tall, dark, and gloomy. He was leaning against the bike, smoking, just how Tony had pictured it--well, except that he was wearing a hoodie instead of a motorcycle jacket. No leather this time, sadly. But he did have-- “A metal arm?” A whole arm??? Tony couldn’t bridge the gap fast enough. He almost used rocket boots, but that would have appeared way too eager.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” Clint asked as Tony ran past one of the napping pods. Did that guy ever go to class?

“Sorry, your mom doesn’t like to wait!” Tony called back. He’d thought it was pretty good, but the suction arrow that hit him in the ass a second later didn’t quite project the aura of cool Tony was going for. He had to duck behind a tree and pull it off before he continued. By then he was close enough to Barnes’ line of sight that he had to amble, look disinterested.

Tony put his sunglasses on so that he could keep staring. Everything about the guy oozed sex appeal, from his posture to the way he wrapped his lips around his clove cigarette.  _ Don’t get carried away, Stark, _ he admonished himself. Cool. He was cool. He didn’t really care who it was across the quad, or whom Barnes was waiting for.

“Oh. Hey.” Tony pretended to notice him at the last minute.

“Hey.” Barnes flicked his cigarette butt onto Pym’s pristine lawn. The old man was going to have a fit.

“Nice arm.” Tony turned around, standing next to him. Sort of. Like he didn’t care. Like standing under trees in the quad was normal for him.

That comment seemed to surprise Barnes a little. Point to Tony. “Yeah. You, too.”

“Yeah. Made it myself. That’s right, I’m a genius. No big deal.” You know, designing your own prosthetic limbs, like you do.

“Really?” He sounded surprise again. Two points to Tony. “Cool.”

“How about yours?”

“Nope.” Barnes put both hands on the seat of the bike behind him, just leaning, the wind toying with his hair, making him look like a supermodel.

Wait, had Tony’s question been too obviously interested? Too intrusive? And what had Barnes’ answer mean?

“Life sucks...and then you die,” he said, sounding philosophical, deep. There was no passion in his voice, just gentle resignation.

“Strongly disagree.” Tony turned his head to look at Barnes, then, and pulled his sunglasses down so he could hit him with the big brown eyes. “Maybe you’re just not living it right.”

But Barnes wasn’t listening. He’d started to strum an invisible guitar, humming a soft tune that made Tony’s toes curl in his platform sneakers. “Go out with me,” he blurted out suddenly, surprising both of them.

It was the most awkward thing to ever come out of Tony’s mouth, and he regretted it immediately. It was that damned music. Like witchcraft, it was. And he hadn’t even been holding a real guitar!

Barnes had stopped “playing” but he continued to look straight ahead, letting the breeze do that thing with his long hair. Tony found himself wondering what it would look like in a man-bun. “I dunno,” he said in that soft, sandy voice. “Seems like we are out.”

What did that mean? Was he making fun of Tony? Was that a refusal? An acceptance? Tony tried to play it cool while he puzzled it out. “Well, yeah.” He shrugged, pushing his sunglasses back up. “True.”

He heard a soft clink and looked down to see Barnes’ exquisite chrome fingers sliding nonchalantly across Tony’s crimson gold titanium knuckles. His heart leapt into his throat so fast, for a minute Tony thought he might vomit. His metal fingers clutched Barnes’ before he could think better of it. Oh god, this was like true love. Cyborg love. He could almost feel his brain melting. “Are we really doing this?” Words had a way of pouring from his lips when he least wanted them to. “Are we really going to stand here in the middle of campus holding hands like little kids? I mean, I’m not complaining, I’m just curious. You know, in case someone happens by and asks us, I want to have the right answer ready. Just to make sure. Because it’s not really--this isn’t exactly the type of thing I do, in case you were curious. I’m not the sort of guy who just--”

Barnes turned toward him. “Tony?”

He licked his lips, nervous. “Um. Yes?”

“Shut up,” he said gently, leaning forward to silence Tony with his lips. Tony melted in his arms, going limp and trying to press up against him at the same time. The moan that came out of Tony sounded like he hadn’t been kissed in years--which was obviously not true.

When Barnes let him up for air, he was panting. “So, what happens now?” He really needed to get a rein on this whole verbal diarrhea thing.

Barnes hadn’t let go of him; his arms were still firmly around Tony, their bodies pressed together. Those beat-up jeans didn’t hide much. “Drive you home?” he asked.

“I could show you my workshop,” Tony offered, voice breathless. “Maybe  _ you _ can be my new assistant.”

Barnes snorted a laugh. “Get on.”

Tony was halfway to wrapping his legs around Barnes’ waist before he realised what he’d meant. “Oh, right.”  _ Keep it cool, Stark. _

On their way out, they drove straight through the quad, grass and all. They passed Jan--among others--whose jaw was on the floor. Tony wiggled his fingers at her with a superior smirk. He could literally feel his phone blowing up. But Tony just put his arms around Barnes’ waist, leaning forward to inhale his steampunk snowflake scent. It was cyborg love.


End file.
